The Fool
by ShonenAiSorcerer
Summary: Just a little Halloween friendship fic. No pairings.


The Fool

He was exhausted. Perched on the desk in Post-op, his arms dangled between his legs as he stared at the patient. He was wearing a superman outfit, and it should have been absurd with that lab coat over it. But I couldn't help but find it…not.

We got ready together in the Swamp, anticipation high; we had worked for a week on our costumes like two kids, trading ideas and gathering various tools of construction. I arrived just in time to watch him shrug his arms into the long underwear with the 'S' drawn on the front. It hugged his frame, making him look thinner than his army greens. I was busy getting all my things on, and when I turned around it was to see him jumping a little as he tried to squeeze into a pair of red satin shorts. They were tight as sin and he had obviously forgone his normal boxers to get them to fit that way.

I was thankful for my own more modest choices, but Hawkeye was probably the only person Korea who could get his hands on red short shorts.

Getting them up over his hips, he turned to grin at me. I was going as the clown, but he still thought he was playing the fool. But the fun is just more of the appeal, and Hawkeye has a lot of fun, some of it more innocent that people give him credit for. He doesn't think twice about dressing up, falling down, running away--anything that makes someone else smile. And if he's lucky, he gets to smile too.

I felt bad tonight, when the speaker went off. He had just fastened on that ridiculous cape, and he looked up when the announcement started, and he ran out before it was over. Somewhere in between his face fell, the smile dropping off. Of course, I flipped off my clown shoes and followed. Admittedly, I felt a little sorry for myself too.

But we worked hard, and we got through it. Father Mulcahy even saved a soldier's life, giving us a real life ghost story. I guess we were all amazed, that's why we sat there and stared at the kid; it scared us a little too, that nagging sense that there might have been another one, somewhere, that got tagged too soon. But the father insisted we look on the bright side, and as out little group broke up, Potter pointed out that the party was still going on.

"This cowpoke's beat, but you boys might head on over," he suggested, rolling his shoulders a little under his brown vest.

"I think I'll stay here a bit."

"Okay padre. What about you kids?" he directed to Margaret, Hawkeye, and me.

Margaret reached up to pluck one of the white flower from her hair, "I'm on duty."

I looked to Hawkeye, ready to play sidekick to whatever decision he made.

"I'm headed to bed."

The Colonel seemed surprised, but understanding, "Alright, son. BJ?"

"I think I'll put away my clown pants. Tomorrow I'm gonna come as a doctor."

Goodnights were exchanged, and Hawkeye and I wandered out into the compound. He tilted his watch to catch the moonlight.

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

"The bewitching hour," I smiled, bumping his shoulder with my own. Reaching up, I pulled the fake nose from my face. He laughed. "What?"

"At least that comes off; too bad you're stuck with the giant feet!"

"Well, you know what they say about a man with big feet."

"Big shoes?"

I bumped him again and he slung an arm easily around my shoulder.

"Wanna go trick-or-treating?" he questioned.

"No porch lights in the middle of a war, Hawk."

"I was thinking more of the tricks."

"Charles?"

"Charles."

* * *

He collapsed to his cot in a fit of giggles, having thoroughly booby-trapped Charles's tape recorder, foot locker, and helmet. The last of these held shaving cream, and was a good general indication of the sophistication of the jokes. I might have done better, but his laughter intimated that he had managed to recapture some of the joy of Halloween, so I let the mediocrity of the tricks go and settled in to have a drink.

I poured us both a glass from the still, and he sat up to accept it; his face was red, and I know I was wearing my doofus grin, complimented, of course, by the mustache that he picked at constantly. Figuring it was the best time, I reached under my bed to pull out the shoebox I had gotten in the mail a few days before.

"More giant shoes?"

"Nope."

"What is it?"

"Candy."

"Candy? Real candy?" He was instantly on my cot, leaning over me to see under the lid I had barely lifted.

"Aht!" I snapped it closed. "You have to say it."

Putting on his best little boy grin, he did: "Trick-or-treat!"

I reached into the box to pull out a single piece of hard candy and handed it over.

"Just one lousy piece?"

I nodded.

He was thinking.

I should have seen it coming.

Suddenly he was tickling me, fingers playing over my stomach and up under my ribs. Racked with laughter, I did my best to hold onto my prize, but he found the place right over my hipbone, and as I was desperately trying to squirm away, he snatched it from my hands and escaped towards his cot. But not fast enough.

I was on my feet, hands back on the box, one leg planted between his. There was a scuffle, both of trying to get a free hand to tickle but trying to hold the box, laughing, and somehow I tripped him. He fell hard onto his butt, and I was left holding the candy. He looked up at me, honestly surprised. All he could do was laugh.

Settling onto the floor between our cots, I dumped out the box and we began to rifle through its contents.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked around a mouthful of chocolate.

"Peg sent it."

His eyes might have darkened for a second, a dim thought of home and what we were missing maybe, but soon he was pawing through the candy.

"Which one's your favorite?" he asked.

"How do you know one of them is?"

"Peg woulda sent your favorite."

"Yeah," I admitted, selecting a piece of licorice and holding it up for his examination. He made a face and pushed it back towards me.

He took a few choice pieces in his hand and settled his back against the edge of his cot.

"Thanks, Beej."

"You bet." I popped one of the licorice pieces into my mouth, and though its flavor brought me images of Peg and porch lights and home, the smile on his face was, in that moment, even better.

-end-

AN: So I set out to write something that was decidedly not slash, and I think I pretty much made it…mostly…though not without several revisions. If I'm not wasting my time, I'm debating doing a few more of the "just friends" fics, so let me know what you think!


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